Nameless Grace
by EloraCooper4
Summary: AngelCollins fluff. Angel tries to guess what the B in Thomas B Collins stands for.


Note: I started feeling bad since quite a few people apparently have a good cry when they read my angsty fics. So I then decided more fluff and less…pain and death. I know what a novelty ;) I don't own RENT or the poem that I used lovingly here. Hope you all like since it's my first try at a non-serious fic. Also I don't know what the B stands for sorry if the explination is somewhere.

Angel Dumott Schunard bounced her toes up and down to the song that was playing in her head. Her whole body shook a little in time with the beat. Tom Collins didn't seem to be phased even though she was laying on top of him, her back to his chest, his arm around her middle. Collins was quite busy reading a new biography on Sartre, one of his favorite philosophers. Every once in while he would laugh or shake his head or just grin in reaction to the text. Angel would bounce to song after song and Collins would turn page after page. Neither would say anything, they were just content to be close to each other.

At least they stayed that way until Angel was hit with a wave of curiosity, "What's the B stand for?" She asked looking back at Collins. It took a few moments for her words to register as the book was now discussing Sartre's play "No Exit".

"Huh?" He mumbled not putting the book down, his eyes continuing to scan the words. Angel sighed and readjusted herself so they were laying stomach to stomach. Collins put his book down as Angel kissed him gently.

Angel giggled her eyes lighting up, "I knew that would get your attention." Collins let the book drop to the floor loosing his page.

"You know me well, baby." Collins leaned in to kiss her but she put her fingertip onto his lips.

"Not as well as I would like. I don't even know what B stands for!" She said giving him a little pout, "Thomas B. Collins and I have no clue what the B is. It could be anything for all I know. So what does it stand for?" Angel rested her head on Collins' chest batting her eyelashes along with his gentle heartbeat.

"Oh that B." Collins replied. He put his arms around Angel and gently rubbed her back, "Guess."

Angel smirked closing her eyes, "We could be here for days….your students would miss you."

"Oh yeah." Collins said chuckling, "They will mourn my absence…I wouldn't mind days here." He leaned down to kiss the top of her head, "Not at all."

Angel gently kissed the exposed skin above his tank top and then ran her finger back and forth on the area, "I'm flattered, baby, but I a girls day planned with Mimi tomorrow so we better get going." Collins nodded closing his eyes as well.

"Hmmm…where to start? Thomas Boris Collins?" Angel asked looking hopeful. Collins snorted, "Ok ,I'll take that as a no. An undignified no but a no none the less. Ummm…" She tapped her chin with her blue fingernails, "Baldy?"

Collins laughed shaking his head, "Well I do suppose it would fit at my birth and currently. But that word be all types of embarrassing." He slowly stroked Angel's cheek. "Keep going."

"Ok…" Angel said leaning into his fingers slightly, "Brad? No, too…manly."

Collins raised his eyebrow smiling, "What are you implying Miss Schunard?" Angel shrugged innocently and pecked him on the cheek to show she meant no offense.

"Not Brad?" She asked.

"Not Brad. Lucky for you." Collins said with a smirk. In relief, Angel let out a small giggle. She never would have been able to live that one down.

"Um, Benjamin? Is that why you have issues with Benny?" Angel questioned wondering if there was about to be a revelation about their friendship. Collins shook his head. The drag queen yawned for a moment and then pointed her finger up in the air as if she was just hit by inspiration, "Brian! I knew a Brian once…he was a good dancer. Couldn't kiss to save his life, but a good dancer."

"Should I be jealous?" Collins questioned her although he was completely at ease. Angel shook her head pulling herself up his body slowly. She leaned over to place kisses on his neck.

"That was long ago…and I only stay with good kissers." Angel mumbled between kisses. Collins chuckled tilting his head to the side to give her free reign.

"Should I be worried?" Angel pulled herself from his neck to kiss his lips heavily. Collins reciprocated the kiss with just as much pressure that Angel started it with. When they parted Angel smirked.

"You have _nothing_ to worry about." Angel murmured in his ear making Collins shiver from head to toe. The professor was about to suggest another activity when Angel said, "Bailey?"

Collins tried to hide his disappointment but had to let out a sigh. "Nope…isn't that a spice?"

Angel giggled making circles on his shoulder blade with her fingertips, "That's bay leaves, lover. Uh, Brendon? Brandan?" Collins shook his head.

"Bart?" She asked looking up at his face which lit up.

"You would like that wouldn't you?" Angel batted her eyelashes trying to seem innocent.

"Not Bart?" She asked.

"Nope." Collins answered running his hand up and down the top of Angel's thigh her red tights shifting at his touch. Heat rushed through Angel's body, but she had to stay on task.

"You're right I would have liked that." Angel mumbled biting her lip trying to ignore Collins' hand. "Um, Blake?"

"Uh huh." Collins said his other hand slipping under Angel's white top and massaging the skin there.

"How about the good old name, Bob?" Angel asked biting her lip harder than before holding back a moan.

"I'm not a boring old man or a goldfish." Collins noted his hands stopping all of their motion.

"How'd you know I had a goldfish named Bob!" Angel asked sitting up in astonishment. Collins pulled Angel back down towards him slowly.

"I think we've all had a goldfish named Bob. I think it's an American tradition." Collins mumbled kissing her head as Angel lowered it to his chest again.

"Ok…alright I give up…what is it?" Angel relented with a sigh, she wanted to guess it, but she now realized it was probably obscure since she hit most of the normal ones. Collins didn't seem to mind that she gave up.

"Byron. My mom's favorite poet." Collins explained with a smirk. Angel was about to call foul play, how was she ever going to guess Byron? But then she smiled and kissed his earlobe.

"Recite me a poem." She whispered in his ear. Putting her head back down on his chest she closed her eyes.

It didn't take Collins more than a few moments to remember a poem of Lord Byron's. He whispered the word to her,

"She walks in Beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellow'd to that tender light

Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impair'd the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o'er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent."

When he was finished Angel leaned up a few tears on her face, "Beautiful." She said simply. Although she didn't understand every word of the poem, she felt the power and rhythm of words filled with love.

Collins cupped her face with on of his hands wiping away the tears with his thumb, "Beautiful." Angel blushed but didn't pull her eyes from his. Instead she leaned down and kissed him slowly with all the love for him she had as a thank you for the poem and compliment.

As they parted Angel murmured, "I love you, Thomas Byron Collins." Collins smiled warmly and put his hand on the back of her head gently pulling her down for another kiss.

Post: For all you literary types who care: As I was reading Byron poems I found out he was once in love with another man. "She Walks in Beauty" isn't about another man but he wrote many poems about him, sadly the man he was in love with died when he was very young. Just thought it was an interesting tidbit.


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